


Where The Wild Things Are

by sappho147



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, Case Fic, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, about two years after castiel falls but i will be honest i haven't watched this show in five years, jealous!Dean, mostly a case fic, mostly past castiel/OMC, not really set anywhere specific please don't come for me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:48:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27177431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sappho147/pseuds/sappho147
Summary: Dean and Sam roll into town to investigate a string of deaths in a rural town, only to run into Castiel, who is there for a similar purpose at the request of an old friend. Since when did Castiel have old friends Dean has never heard of? How do they even know each other? And if Castiel isn't staying at the only motel in town, where is he parking his car?
Relationships: Castiel (Supernatural)/Original Male Character(s), Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Where The Wild Things Are

Four people had been torn to shreds by wild animals within the town of Buffalo Lake, Minnesota in the last month. It was a rural town, surrounded by thick forest and farmland, and animal attacks weren’t uncommon, even close to the center of town, but four people, about a month apart, in so small a town was enough to raise suspicions. 

“There’s some record of a few deaths a couple of years back, but there’s no mention of animal attacks or significant injuries, and almost nothing since then. ” Sam said, flipping through his research notes, “Whatever is doing this has to be new to the area.”

Dean hummed in response, pulling into the parking lot of the local sheriff’s office. There hadn’t been anything in the paper that would could narrow down the dozens of possibilities, either natural or otherworldly. Animal attacks weren’t his favorite jobs, either in the research or the actual ‘solving the problem’ stage. The difference between a regular wolf attack and a werewolf attack didn’t tend to end up in a newspaper, so they’d wasted a lot of days driving out to towns that turned out to have had a smaller than average deer population that year resulting in a hungrier than average wolf population.

The cheap fed suit was itching and a little small, tight around his neck and arms, but it was the only without blood or gore stains in it at the moment and he hadn’t had time to do any laundry. They’d barely had a day back since their last hunt, hardly enough time to rest let alone get anything important done. He’d meant to call Cas, just to check in. He could have called in the car, but Sam was there. Why he didn’t want Sam to hear him and Cas have a casual, slightly uncomfortable conversation he didn’t want to think about. Still, they hadn’t spoken at all since he’d left on whatever secret angel mission he was up to, and Dean was traditionally a worrier. 

The sheriff’s office was small, old fashioned, and smelt faintly of some kind of pickled vegetable. It was the kind of building you wouldn’t be surprised to find asbestos in. Sam flashed his badge to a pleasant looking middle aged receptionist.

“We’re here about the animal attacks in town.” Sam spoke with a practiced confidence, statements rather than questions. The receptionist nodded immediately, gesturing towards the hall.

“Sheriff Miller is down the hall on the left, with your other Agent.” She picked up her phone and hit a button. “Miller, there’s two more from the FBI to speak to you. Okay, hon, they’re on their way.” She pointed down the hall again, nodding her head.

They smiled politely and turned towards the hall, exchanging a look. Other Agent? Shit. 

A fake badge and a smile was usually enough for a small town cop that didn’t know better but a real fed would know what to look for. Dean wondered if he was going to end up in handcuffs today for the not-fun reason yet again. He took Sam’s silent march down the hall as an agreement to get what the could as fast as possible and get the hell out of there at the first sign of trouble. He could hear low voices from behind the door. 

“Come on in.” Said a voice. Probably heard Sam’s giant stupid footsteps from a mile away. He opened the door, double checking the badge in his hand for the right name.

“Sheriff Miller? I’m Agent—” A voice from behind the door cut him off.

“Dean?”

He turned towards the voice. Castiel was leaning up against the windowsill, a puzzled expression on his face.

Miller sighed with what sounded like relief.

“So you know them?” He asked Castiel. “Are they...”

“Hunters, yes.” Castiel responded. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you think we’re doing here? What are you doing here?” Dean asked, incredulous. 

“David called me.”

“David?”

The Sheriff waved.

“Presumably he called for the exact same reason you’re here.”

“Aren’t mystery animal attacks a little beneath you?” 

“As I said, a friend called for help.”

A friend? Cas had a friend Dean didn’t know? That he’d never even _mentioned in passing?_ Dean studied this ‘David’ guy. He seemed tall, even seated behind the old desk, with dark hair and maybe a day or two or stubble. Undeniably handsome too, not that it mattered. Not that he cared. 

Sam seemed to sense Dean was winding up to say something stupid, rude, or both, and interjected. 

“Well, it’s good to see you, Cas. Since we drove all this way, we’re happy to help out if we can.” Sam smacked Dean on the back of the arm, just slightly too hard. “Right, Dean?”

Dean pulled his eyes away from the Sheriff.

“Yeah, of course. Yeah. Just surprised to see you.”

Cas and Sheriff Miller exchanged a look.

“Happy to have you on the team.” 

Sam closed the door behind them, and sat down in a chair across from the desk, pulling out his notes again. The newspapers Sam had found, it turned out, contained almost all of the information they had at that point. The first three autopsies hadn’t been conclusive beyond ‘massive bleeding from animal attack’ and there wasn’t any clear connection between the victims beyond general location - about a mile outside the centre of town in a heavily forested area. The first three victims had been killed over two nights, one on Thursday and two on the Friday, and the last had been killed yesterday night.

The sheriff - David, was flicking through the autopsy reports as the spoke, looking for something. How the hell had he and Cas even met? Sam hadn’t found anything else weird in this town, not in the last two years. Was he and angel? Didn’t seem likely that an angel would hold a job as a small town sheriff, and it was even less likely that one would consider himself mutually ‘friends’ with Castiel at this point. So what the hell was the deal? 

They were good enough friends that he knew about hunters, but he didn’t seem to be one. Knew enough to know something fishy was going on, something he’d need Cas’ help for. Why the hell wouldn’t Cas have mentioned him? They knew each other well enough that Cas had given him a fairly permanent phone number to reach him, or kept in touch regularly enough that he had a recent number. Did they see each other often? If the didn’t see each other often, then what had happened in a short time, some amount of time ago, that meant they were still good enough friends that he’d be the first number called when help was needed?

Dean was pulled out of his spiral by David handing him a stack of photographs. He flipped through them, holding them where Sam could see. Crime scene photos mostly, and then some autopsy pics at the back. 

“The only real thing of note is the degree of maiming.” David continued, flipping through the autopsy reports, “The second night, Friday a month ago, they’re both killed, but one of them was much more intact. All the others having missing organs, but this one only the heart is gone.”

“All the hearts were gone?” Sam asked, studying the last photo. 

David nodded. 

“Hearts gone, about a month between kills. Sounds like we’ve got ourselves a werewolf.” Dean put the photographs back on the desk.

David looked over to Castiel again, apparently seeking confirmation.

“At least one.” 

David nodded. 

“Victims two and three from a month ago,” Dean pointed to the photos of the second crime scene, “Where they together? Not like - were they physically together before the attack?”

“They were both walking home together, yes.” 

“Maybe only two werewolves then.”

“You think they were looking for one heart each?” Sam asked. 

Dean shrugged.

“Doesn’t seem much like they cared about the third one.”

David shuddered. 

“Nevertheless,” Cas began, “We should expect more. The moon will be full for the next two nights.”

“All right, so what, do we just gather up an arsenal of silver bullets and wait until nightfall?” David joked.

“Yes.” Said Cas. “Do you have a motel room yet?”

Sam nodded. 

“Okay. Gather up what you can and we can meet again shortly before sunset.”

“Where are you going?” Dean asked.

“My things are in my car.”

“Parked where?”

“Not at the motel.”

“Well, you can drive your car over to the motel.”

“I could.”

“Will you?”

“No.”

“ _What—_ ”

“Sheriff!” Sam interrupted, “You know the area best, we’ll meet wherever you like in about...” He checked his watch. “Two hours.” Sam grabbed Dean by the arm and pull him up with as he stood - again, just a little too roughly to be casual. 

Dean followed Sam out to the parking lot, muttering. He scanned the tiny parking lot for Cas’ hideous vehicle, but there were only two other cars, a police cruiser and a tiny two-door hatchback that he guessed belonged to the receptionist. Where the hell was Cas parked then? Why didn’t he drive it here? It wasn’t exactly a walkable town and, as far as Dean knew, which apparently wasn’t particularly goddamned far, Cas still couldn’t fly anywhere. 

He glanced back at the building, looking for the window Cas had been leaning up against in the office, and spied it. It was a small window, but through it he could see Cas and the sheriff, talking. Talking very close to each other. Cas reached an arm over and touched the sheriff’s arm - held it there. Held it there for a long time. 

Dean was still processing the image when Sam starting tugging loudly on the passenger side door handle like an obnoxious child.

“You’re such an asshole,” Dean unlocked the car. “And if you break that door handle you’re buying the replacement.”

“We use the same stolen credit cards, Dean. And how exactly am I today’s asshole? What is going on with you?”

“Whatever.” He pulled out of the parking lot. Cas’ hand was still on the sheriff’s arm.


End file.
